Ad Interim
by Kaze Kimizu
Summary: I messed with the Death Note characters and settings. xP Mihael was adopted into Mail's family at a young age, only to suffer from the wrath of Mail's abusive father. Now much older at Wammy's and beyond! , how will the boys overcome their past?
1. Begin

**Author's Note:** So, while I was trying to think up more stuff to write on my Game Over story, I came up with this little beauty. It probably won't be as long as Game Over will be, but I'm happy with how it's going along. Hell, I just sat and wrote about 18 pages on this story without getting bored or stuck at all. I've never tried a "story evolves from dates" type thing, so bear with me if it sucks. Comments are awesome, even the bad kind. xD And by the way, "Ad Interim" supposedly means "In the Meantime." Just some extra information for you. Now, Onward!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death Note. I wish I did, but I don't. If I owned Death Note, I would have Matt and Mello become the stars of the show. And I'd have them WIN, damn it.

**Warning:** Should just be bad language and abuse in this story, but who knows? I have a way of maiming perfectly good work.

* * *

**December 28th, 1996**

"I'm only taking you in because I owed your father a favor. Don't get used to living here. And don't expect any special treatment. If you disobey me, I will still beat you until you bleed."

The belt caught Mihael across the shoulders, making him scream until his lungs hurt. His hands gripped fistfuls of blanket as he struggled to stay in position throughout his beating. 

"Nate, for God's sake. Don't make the boy pass out. Come on, hasn't he been punished enough?" The woman's fingers lighted on the doorframe, staring at the floor. 

"Quiet, Woman," the broad-shouldered man barked. "This boy stole from my truck. I'll decide when he's had enough." 

"Ahh, nngh, owww..." Mihael whined through gritted teeth as the belt danced across his entire backside, even dipping down to lick his legs with stripes of fire. "M-m-mai..."

"Yes, boy, I know. Mail will get what's coming to him, too. Best you focus on your own situation. Leave my son to me." The man cracked the belt hard across Mihael's lower back, ending the dreadful beating. He stormed out of the tiny room, leaving the boy to cry his heart out.

Once the man left, the woman crossed the space between herself and the sobbing child, scooping him into a half-embrace. She pulled her fingers through his hair, shushing him gently. His sobs turned to hiccups in her gentle arms. Across the hall, another pleading voice screamed out as the belt descended on the second victim of Nate's wrath.

"Shhh, Mihael, calm down honey. I know it hurts, hon. Nate...he means well. He wants to raise you boys properly. You can't steal, and you can't lie. Please think of your actions next time...please..." She cradled the blonde-haired angel to her chest as the beating across the hall became more intense. 

"Momma, can I come when you get Mail?" Mihael's deep blue eyes pleaded with her intently. He burrowed his face into her clean-smelling shirt as a particularly nasty scream drifted into his ears. 

"No, honey. Best leave Mail to me. You should lie down and sleep until your stripes stop hurting so badly. I...I can't bring anything to you once Nate is finished. I'm sorry, honey. Just try to sleep, all right? Mihael..." The woman blinked hard to push back the tears she wanted to spill so desperately. 

"Yes, Momma..." young Mihael pulled himself away from her warm embrace and dropped himself delicately on the bed. "Tell Mail I'm sorry?"

"Of course. Don't leave your room until after dark. I'll leave a sandwich behind the cereal box for you; try to get it without waking your father. Without waking Nate, I mean." She forced a smile as she stood to face her other crying child. "I love you, Mihael."

"I love you, too," he whispered as his heavy eyes closed for sleep.

Just as Mihael drifted off into dream world, heavy boots on the stairwell awoke him. He lifted his head, wincing at the shots of pain that teased his nerves, and listened carefully.

"Momma, Momma!" He heard faintly from across the hall, "Momma! It hurrrtss..."

"I know," he heard the woman coo, "Mihael says that he's sorry. I'll leave you a sandwich behind the cereal box..." 

With fluttering eyelids, Mihael tuned out the rest of the conversation. It wasn't right to eavesdrop. He had only wanted to make sure that Mail knew how sorry he was...

* * *

**February 18th, 1997**

"Nate, don't! God, please don't!"

_BANG._ Silence. Heavy footsteps on the stairs.

"Mihael! He's coming! What are we gonna do?" Mail trembled, squeezing a fistful of Mihael's shirt. 

"I don't know, Mail. I'm scared. He's going to shoot us if we don't do something." The blonde shoved the smaller boy into the closet, pulling the door shut behind them. 

"I want my Momma!" Mail cried. He pulled at Mihael's shirt until it ripped, removing an entire sleeve from the blonde's white t-shirt.

"I know, I know. I want her, too. But we can't...I mean, you heard it. You heard it, didn't you? We're on our own now, and we're running out of time." He frowned in concentration as the footsteps grew nearer and nearer to the boys' hiding place.

"Why, where are my two beautiful boys?" A drunken voice growled menacingly. "Come out and play with your old Pop. Mail, you want to play Cowboys and Indians, right? Bang, bang, you're dead!" The voice chuckled in the empty moonlit room. "Make it easy on me, son. Come on out of the closet."

"What are we going to do?" Mail whispered frantically. 

"Stay still. Crouch down as low as you can get." Mihael pushed the younger boy to a sitting position before taking a deep breath. Slowly, he reached for the closet's handle. Counting to three, he ripped the door open and lunged at the drunken man in front of him. 

"You li'l bastard!" The man growled, "I'll kill you! I'll kill you dead! I'll..." The man's speech was cut off by a low kick to the groin. He doubled over in pain, huffing and puffing and moaning for air. Mihael dove for the fallen gun, raising it and pulling the trigger before he could think of an alternate plan. 

_BANG._ Silence.

Mihael's blood roared in his ears as Nate Jeevas crumpled in a sick pile of flesh and bones and blood. His eyes remained open, haunting. All Mihael could think about was his own heavy breathing.

Slowly, he lowered the gun. He backed up against the wall, sliding down to the floor with a whimper. His eyes bulged in fear; his stomach felt sick. 

"Mihael! Mihael!" Mail's voice called from far away. Mihael could barely keep from blacking out. "Mihael! What do we do now?"

"We...we...we..." Mihael blinked a few times, "Mail, I shot him..."

"You had to," Mail whimpered, crossing the space between the two boys. He knelt at Mihael's side, tugging at the blonde's arm. "He's have killed us both. Let's get help. Please, Mihael. Let's call the cops."

"NO!" Mihael yelled, jumping to his feet. "You can't! They'll arrest me. I shot your father, Mail. I shot him. I didn't mean to...I just..." The boy's eyes squeezed shut, trying to rid the frightening image from his head. "I just...shot him..."

Mail slipped away soundlessly, leaving the panicked boy to cry in peace. Somewhere in the distance, sirens blared and lights flashed as an able squad responded to a young boy's call about his parents being shot.

* * *

**March 1st, 1997**

"You know that kid. He shot someone, you know. Better stay away."

"Don't listen to them, Mihael," The young redhead smiled sympathetically at the wide-eyed blonde. "They're just being kids. You're not dangerous. You're a hero. You saved us."

Mihael opened his mouth to answer, when a large woman stepped in front of the duo, nearly knocking them over.

"BOYS!" She screeched, pointing at Mail and Mihael, "You need to get to my office RIGHT NOW."

The two boys dropped their eyes and slinked down the hall into the cold Matron's office. Mail gently squeezed Mihael's hand.

"Wonder what we did this time..." he sighed, "We've been here how long? And we've probably been in trouble more than every other kid here. Combined. And tripled."

"It's because we're bad," Mihael muttered quietly. "We're marked with black ink. We're bad."

"That's not it..." Mail tried to argue, but was cut off mid-sentence by the Matron's chilling voice screeching instructions.

"BOYS!" She huffed, "You know what you've done this time! Both of you, get across that bench and start praying. Lord help you this time!" 

"Like we actually did anything..." Mail snorted, earning a hard kick from the pissed-off Matron. 

"Silence!" She barked, pushing the two young boys until they were helplessly stretched across the bench, awaiting the latest beating. The Matron stomped over to her cabinet and withdrew a long, wide strap from within. 

"We're bad," Mihael whispered. "We're bad and we'll always find ourselves in trouble."

"Maybe," Mail whispered back, "but at least we'll be in trouble together."

_CRACK._

** August 5th, 1999**

"And you've brought them from where?" A gray-haired man asked the young social worker.

"Golden River Orphanage," the young woman answered, ticking a box on Mihael's file. "The blonde one is named Mihael. He was adopted in 1995 by Nathan and Emily Jeevas. Birth date is December 13, 1989, blood type A. Original parents unknown. The red-haired boy is Mail Jeevas; birthday is February 1, 1990. Blood type O. Parents were Nathan and Emily Jeevas, now deceased. No known siblings or living relatives. Both boys were taken to the Golden River shortly after the murder of Nathan and Emily Jeevas. The police files from that case are included in the overview."

"And what of the Golden River?" He asked, pursing his lips as he glanced over the photos of the crime scene.

"It was...closed. These boys and forty-seven other children suffered abuse under the Matron of the orphanage, Diana Parquer. She is currently awaiting trial. Sir, these boys...they've seen a lot. A medical examination showed that both boys have multiple scars from shoulders to ankles. They've been beaten quite a bit. Are you sure that this is a safe haven for them?"

"Miss, Wammy's is the safest haven available for gifted boys such as these." He smiled warmly, gazing out the window to the small boys sleeping soundly in the green Chevy in the driveway.

"Yes Sir," the woman nodded. "I'll bring their things inside. We'll wake them as soon as their belongings are in place. They...they don't have much, sir."

"I understand. Here, I'll show you to their room. "

** August 6th, 1999**

"Hey, Mail..." 

"It's Matt now, Mello." 

"Right, Matt. Sorry. I don't like these new names."

"I know, me either. But Roger said we have to use them or else."

"I know. Anyways, Matt, what do you think about this place? I have a really bad feeling." 

"How come? I like it here. They're letting us be roommates and they haven't punished us at all, even though we both complained about our new names! I think it's great!"

"But...I have a feeling that it won't last. That they're just being nice because we're new. I have this really bad feeling that someday, we'll suffer here like we have everywhere else."

"I don't think so. This isn't like back at the River. It's not like home was."

"I hope you're right, Mail. Matt. Sorry. I hope you're right, Matt."

"I am, Mello. Just trust me, all right?"

"I always have."

* * *

**June 23rd, 2001**

"Matt! Mello!" Roger called down the hall, obviously angry. "What in God's name are you two doing in here?"

The two boys gulped, eyes wide and hands trembling. Mello quickly dropped the file he had been holding.

"We're not doing anything, Roger," Mello said, feigning innocence. He was sure that it was time, that they were going to suffer again. Breaking and entering? Why had he tried something so risky?

"Boys, I am very upset that you would do something so foolish. However, I would like to compliment you on your newfound skills. Matt, you hacked the security system around the file cabinet, did you not?"

"Yes...Yes Roger." Matt cast a wary glance to Mello.

"And Mello, you organized the break-in for a convenient time? And you chose the target?"

"I did, Roger." Mello stated defiantly.

"Well done, boys. Now, get out. The security system will be rewritten and all files will be rearranged. Don't attempt another break-in."

The boys shuffled out of the room with their tails between their legs. They raced down the empty hallway, seeking refuge in their quiet room. The moonlight streamed across the floor, casting shadows on everything. The boys locked the door and plopped down on the window seat, completely exhausted.

"So, what did you find out?" Matt grinned.

"I was right about the new kid," Mello frowned. "I knew I didn't like him. That boy, Near. His real name..."

"You found out his real name?" Matt's face lit up. "All right, Mello!"

"His name is Nate." A shock spread across Matt's features. Mello spit the words out of his mouth like acid. "Nate River."

"Sonofa..." Matt closed his eyes, leaning his head against the cool glass. "Did you read anything else?"

"He's a genius. He's an albino. His parents aren't really dead." Mello spoke in monotone, closing his eyes and leaning against the window as well. "He's antisocial. Of course, we knew that already."

The boys fell silent, contemplating their latest enemy. _Nate River._ That name brought back hundreds of unwelcome memories. Crickets chirped in the field beside Wammy's.

"...Matt?"

"...Yeah?"

"Do you...remember...your father?"

"Of course I do. He made sure I could never forget him. What about you?"

"I...don't remember my real father. I only remember yours. I remember..."

"How much it hurt? When he would beat us?"

"Yeah. And how he'd always come to my room first. So that I had to hear you when you screamed..."

"...Yeah. I had to listen to you scream while I waited for mine. I...was always so afraid."

"...Yeah. Me too. He...he made sure that we would never misbehave again. But we always seemed to prove him wrong."

"I guess so. But then, there were times..."

"What do you mean?"

"He was...really nice to me. Just sometimes. He would...pick me up and spin me around. And laugh. He'd sneak me chocolate under the kitchen table."

"You know, I don't even remember what chocolate tastes like."

"It's sweet. We should steal some from the kitchen."

"Yeah. Hey, Matt?"

"What?"

"When we steal or lie...or do anything bad...do you...?"

"I know. Yeah. I can almost feel the stripes, too."

"...I'm glad it isn't just me. Do you ever think about...?"

"The Matron. Yeah. And the other kids there."

"Yeah. She was a pedophile, wasn't she?"

"I think so. She never made us boys get naked, but I always saw girls stumbling out of her office with their clothes under their arms."

"But she hit us harder. The girls never bled. They just had bruises and welts. Did you notice the photos on her desk? She had a daughter of her own. I wonder what happened to her."

"Who knows?"

"Hey, do you ever think about Momma?"

"Every night."

"I miss her."

"Me too."

"...Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"Say it. Please."

"Mello, I can't. We shouldn't."

"Please. I just want to hear it. Just one more time."

"Fine. _Mihael._"

"Thank you."

"...Say mine?"

"Sure. _Mail._"

"...Thanks."

** July 2, 2001**

"Matt, let's just forget it. Roger's already caught us stealing and sneaking once this week. I don't want to get into trouble with him."

"Quiet, Mello, or you'll blow our cover. We're just getting chocolate. It's no big deal."

"Matt…"

The partners-in-crime glided silently across the tiled floor of the Wammy Kitchen. Mello hesitated, glancing around as though someone would spot them and sound the alarms. Matt crept quietly, focused on one mission: getting chocolate for Mello. 

"It should be in the pantry," Matt mumbled under his breath. He looked around carefully before he slipped his pocketknife between the door and wall. The lock gave way easily, granting them access to the bounty inside. He tugged Mello's wrist roughly, pulling the blonde inside and easing the door shut.

Matt turned to the tall shelves crammed with food. His eyes bulged at the sheer quantity of the food at Wammy's. He ran his fingers across labels, feeling for the one familiar package that he knew was in there.

"Found it," Matt smiled. "We can leave now. Mello?"

Mello froze. He shoved his hand onto Matt's mouth, silencing the struggling redhead. Matt's eyes widened as he heard what had startled Mello – footsteps. Cautiously, he pulled Mello's hand away from his mouth and crouched near the slatted pantry door. He peeked out into the kitchen, watching the footsteps cross in front of their hiding place. Behind him, Mello dropped to his knees in silent prayer. The skin on Matt's back began to tingle as his heart rate sped up. He closed his eyes, knowing that they were inches away from being caught…

But the footsteps went away. The person exited the kitchen, leaving the two boys alone in their silent misery. Without saying a word, Matt took Mello by the hand and half-dragged him back to their room. 

Once safe inside their room, Matt sat down on his bed, suddenly completely exhausted. Mello sat beside him, unwilling to be apart from his partner-in-crime after such a close call. Matt dug around in his vest pocket until his fingers closed around the small bar of Hershey's that they had risked so much to find. 

"Here," he said, passing the chocolate bar to Mello. "Eat it. Chocolate."

"Thanks," Mello smiled softly, breaking off a piece for Matt. "I haven't had chocolate since…I don't remember when. I don't remember what it tastes like."

"That's why I wanted you to taste it," Matt grinned, punching Mello softly in the arm.

Mello pulled a rectangle of chocolate away with his teeth, allowing it to melt on his tongue. A flood of warmth rushed over him, sending electrical pulses to his memory. He closed his eyes, rolling the silky chocolate around his whole mouth.

"My mother…" He whispered.

"What about your mother?" Matt asked.

"She gave me chocolate. This chocolate reminds me of her. She was…blonde. And beautiful. And she smelled like gingerbread. She kept chocolate in her purse. I was so little. She would hand a Hershey Kiss to me when I became fussy, and she would say, 'Mihael, if I gave you a kiss, would you be happy?'" Mello's eyes remained closed, envisioning the mother from his distant past. "She made me feel so…loved…"

"Mello…" Matt leaned over and embraced the blonde in a tight hug. "I'm so glad that you have that memory of your Mama. I'm glad we stole the chocolate."

"Me too," Mello whispered. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. "I miss her so much, Matt."

"Mello, Mello…" Matt hugged the weeping boy, rocking him gently like his own Momma once did. "Hey, Mello? If I give you a kiss, would you be happy?"

Mello looked up at the redhead, eyes showing both confusion and longing. Matt smiled and pulled a Hershey Kiss from his pocket, placing it in the palm of his best friend. 

"Thanks Matt. You're the best friend I've ever had. We'll be together forever, right?"

"Of course. We'll be best friends for life. We'll grow up together, live together, and die together. We're best friends until the end."

"I'm glad, Matt." Mello smiled. "I don't want to die alone."


	2. Continue

**Author's Note:** All right! Chapter Two of Ad Interim! I actually wrote this part the same night I wrote Chapter One, but I wanted to get at least ONE review before I posted another chapter. xP I am a review whore. I love 'em. Anyways, this one introduces Mello as the older boy, the one who discovers life in the Mafia. The one who believes he doesn't need Matt anymore. But we can't leave him like that, now can we? x) Well, that will come in later chapters. Onward!

**Disclaimer:** Death Note is not mine. It'd be a whole lot more interesting if it was. xP Matt and Mello would rule the world.

**Warning:** Cussing, abuse...you should get it by now. 

* * *

**October 31, 2002**

"Pull your hood up, Matt. I can still see your face."

"Sorry. Mello, are you sure that we can do this?"

"Relax, Matty. We're hauling ass out of here."

"Won't Roger notice that we're missing? He'll be looking for us, since it's Halloween. You and I both know that we normally pull a ton of pranks tonight."

"Yeah, yeah. But this is more important. I've got to see L before Near does. It's a challenge, damnit! And I'm going to beat that white-haired pansy."

"Whatever you say, Mello. Hey, pull your shirt down. My laptop is sticking out from under your hump, Igor."

"Shit," Mello hissed, tugging at the corner of his costume. Shut up, Death. If you had more muscle, you could carry your own goddamn laptop."

"And if you knew how to hack L's estate, you wouldn't even need me. So I suggest shutting the fuck up. Let's do this thing."

"Now THAT is the Matty I've been waiting for! Let's go."

The two boys slowly approached the side of L's enormous mansion, one of his many bases located around the world. Eyeing the cameras located at every corner, the two ducked between four garbage cans that obstructed the cameras' view. Carefully, Matt pulled his laptop from Mello's back and plugged it into the converted iPod system that he'd turned into a hacking device. His fingers flew over the keyboard, creating new codes to beat L's security system. Almost as rapidly as he hacked, the system erased his coding and blocked his work.

"Oh, fuck me," Matt swore, flipping the bird at the screen in front of him. He pulled a CD out of the drive and threw it into the trash bin behind him. He quickly plugged a new wire in the laptop before pushing a floppy disk and DVD into the system. 

"If I can just shut his system out for ten seconds, I can overwrite his data and grant us access to the motherboard and all of L's information." Matt chewed absently at his lower lip, frowning at the strings of numbers in front of him.

"Just get it done, Matt." Mello snorted. "I'll take over once we get the system under our control."

"Got it!" Matt grinned. "Blueprints to the building, security camera layout, traps…all here. Help me memorize this shit before we get locked out. I've already shut off the eastern side's cameras and alarms. According to the video feed, L is in the Western Hallway, Third Floor, Room B, sitting on a chair with the news on. No other people are on that floor right now."

"Wicked. You're awesome, Matt. Let's go see L."

"After you, Mello."

The boys donned their costumes once more, creeping along the Eastern Wall, hopping the fence when the coast was clear. Mello grabbed the hacker's wrist, dragging him under some shrubbery that hid a basement window. Matt flashed a Gameboy-Gone-Wrong over the window, confirming that the alarm was off and no system would alert the residents of their entry. They easily slid the pane of glass out of its weathered frame and slipped inside.

Mello held his hand out, stopping Matt from taking a step into the room. He listened carefully, tugging the hacker's striped sleeve until they reached the bottom of the basement stairs. Mello eyed the stairs critically, motioning Matt to step EXACTLY where he stepped. Careful to keep the stairs from creaking, the boys glided up to the door leading to the Eastern Hallway on the ground floor. 

Once inside the Eastern Hallway, Mello's adrenaline kicked into high gear. His ears picked up the subtlest noises. Carefully, he guided the hacker into an inconspicuous storage closet. With trembling fingers, he slid his hand under one of the bars of the air vent and tugged, breaking the entire face from its frame with a dull crack. He paused, listening intently for shuffling feet, screams, anything to show that they had been heard. Smirking triumphantly, he held his hand out to the wide-eyed hacker.

"Give it here," he whispered softly.

"Press the orange button twice," Matt replied as softly as Mello.

"We'll head toward the stairwell at the end of this hall as soon as your device activates. Understand?"

"Got it. Go for it."

Mello tapped the button twice, sliding the device in the metal airshaft. Without warning, the lights blinked out. Now surrounded by pitch-black darkness, Matt and Mello rushed to the stairwell. Taking the stairs three at a time, they pushed into the chaotic second floor. With everyone panicking and unable to see, the boys easily slipped past the dozen or so employees, pushing into the stairwell leading to the third floor. 

The duo leapt up the stairs, eyes shining, adrenaline coursing through their veins. They burst through the door, running like small children until they reached the room containing a very startled L.

"Matt, Mello," L greeted them. "Can I ask…what you are doing here? And why have you shut off my electricity? I hope you know that I am missing the evening news."

"Sorry L," Matt said sheepishly.

"We came to see you," Mello grinned, "and we knew that we couldn't see you if we didn't take action into our own hands."

"I see," L said, amused. "Cake?"

The boys sat down on the couch across from their hero, nibbling at pieces of strawberry cake that were sweet enough to send them into a diabetic coma. Wordlessly, the great detective watched the two boys until he felt the need to speak.

"Now then," L began, "What is it that you boys wanted to see me about?"

"You should know, silly!" Mello laughed. "We wanted to tell you Happy Birthday! Right, Matt?"

"Yeah, Happy Birthday!" Matt flashed a cheesy grin.

"Oh," L said, blinking. "Well, thank you. But might I ask a question of you?"

"Sure L!" Mello replied, anxious to speak with his idol about anything.

"Why didn't you two just use the telephone? Near called half an hour ago to wish me Happy Birthday."

**November 5, 2004**

"I'm leaving, Matt. Don't come with me." Mello sent a withering look at the young hacker.

"Bullshit. I'm going wherever you go." Matt defiantly hefted his duffle bag to his shoulders.

"Fuck no, Matt. I'm getting out of here. Just because I can't stay here doesn't mean you can't. Stay here and live comfortably." Mello zipped his duffle, lifting it with ease. "Stay here. Don't make me repeat myself."

"I miss him too, Mello. I do. L is…L was my idol as well. He's…shit, he was so amazing. We all wanted to me like him. But Mello, he's…not here anymore. It's all up to us. To you, and me, and Near. We're all that the world can count on right now."

"Fuck you, Matt. There's no way I'm working with _Nate River_." He shuddered involuntarily at the name. "Now, get the fuck out of my face. I'm leaving."

"Man, don't do it. We've been through so much shit together…damn, I've got to stick with you. We've been together since we were kids. Or have you forgotten?"

"Matt, how the hell could I forget? Yes, we were both abused until we came here. Yes, we've remained friends ever since. But this is different. This is…this is some dangerous shit."

"I don't give a flying fuck," Matt snorted, "I'm sticking with you forever. You got it?"

"No, Matt. I don't get it. Goodbye." Mello slammed the door behind him, stalking down the hall with a purpose. He ignored the door opening and closing behind him, ignored the footsteps mirroring his own, ignored the determined redhead bent on following Mello until the end of time. Mello pushed open the front door to Wammy's and took off in a full sprint into the foggy night.

"Mello!" He heard behind him. "God damn you, Mello! Stop running!" Matt's voice floated over the walls of fog that engulfed Mello completely. The blonde ran until the voice was gone completely. He ran until the painful feeling left his heart, until after the fear and loneliness had set in. He stumbled into the nearest bar, settling down at a table in the back of the room. 

He must have fallen asleep, because he awoke to a firm grip tugging him to his feet by the collar of his shirt. His eyes flew open, widening further when he saw that his attacker was a huge, pissed-off, Italian man. 

"Boy, you got a death warrant?" The man barked, slinging Mello against the wall roughly. "This is my table."

"S-sorry," Mello growled, brushing himself off. "Didn't know. First time in here."

"Oh really?" The man asked, amused. "And why are you here?"

"Long story," Mello snorted, "And I don't feel like telling it."

"You've got some spunk, kiddo," the man laughed. "You got a home around here?"

"Don't have a home."

"Ahhh, I get it. All right, kiddo, how tough are you? I got a place you can call home if you're tough enough to earn your stay."

"Sir," Mello scoffed, "Asking me how tough I am is like asking a brick wall how hard it is."

"Well then, I'll take that as my answer. Let's get outta here, kiddo. What's your name?"

"It's…Mello."

"Mello, huh? All right. Let's go back to HQ, Mello. The boys will be thrilled to meet you."

"What's your name, sir?" Mello inquired.

"Just call me Boss. That's all you need to know."

* * *

**November 22, 2004**

"Kid's initiation day," Boss growled to his underlings. "Get shit ready. Don't make me angry today."

"Yeah, Boss, we'll take care of it. He's gettin' initiated in the lair, right?"

"Right. Prepare everything for me. I'll take the kid for dinner. He deserves it."

The Boss climbed the stairs leading to Mello's temporary room, where the boy was propped on the windowsill, gazing lazily over the city below. The wind caught his long hair, lifting it lightly, giving him the appearance of an angel with a halo.

"Kid. You and me; we're going to dinner tonight. You'll be initiated into the organization after we get back. Any questions you've got, you ask me in the car or never. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, Boss." Mello kept his eyes focused on the white building nestled softly in the hills across the city. Wammy's House, Mello's old home. He sent a silent farewell to Matt, hoping that the hacker had given up on the hunt for Mello's whereabouts.

"Let's get going. I eat early. We'll need time enough for the initiation tonight."

"Right, Boss. I'm coming."

Mello followed the Italian down to the street below, crawling into the passenger's seat of the Boss's classic Cadillac. As soon as the Boss cranked the car, Mello began his string of questions.

"What's the initiation going to be like?"

"They'll test your endurance and pain tolerance."

"So it's a beating?"

"More or less."

"I see. What am I being initiated into?"

"The Organization. The Mafia. But we're the easy branch. Back where I came from, we had to kill ten people before we got in."

"And once I'm in, what are my duties?"

"You do whatever we tell you to do. Work up the ranks enough and you'll be ordering your own goons around."

"Will I need special training?"

"Our weapon guy and doctor will both teach you the basics. You're on your own past that."

"Will I get an alias?"

"Not among us. You can choose your own alias once you're on the field. The Organization is a family. We fight for each other, we rescue each other, and we kill for each other. You'll learn the ropes in no time."

"I understand. And the initiation…how will it be administered?"

"Sorry Kid, time's up. We're here. Now, let's go have a nice dinner before the party starts."

Mello followed the strong man into the restaurant, a small Italian joint in a part of town that Mello had never noticed before. They sat at a comfortable booth as the waiters served fine wine and breadsticks every five minutes until Boss's pasta and Mello's pizza were ready. They ate in silence, both running through various scenarios of the night's events. Mello wondered how his beating would be administered and whether he could withstand it without making a sissy of himself. Boss wondered whether the kid could take it, and whether he'd have to shoot the kid if he failed. Before they knew it, their peaceful dinner was over with and they had to report back to HQ.

When they arrived back at the base, Boss led Mello down to the basement, into the area known as "The Lair." Mello cringed at the sudden stench of stale cigarettes and weed. The entire room was dark, save for a lonely lamp hanging from the ceiling above a wooden table. If he squinted, Mello could make out faces peering at him from couches and chairs surrounding the table. It didn't take a genius to discover the table's purpose. 

"All right, Kid, it's time." The Boss prodded Mello in the back, making the boy step forward into the circle of light. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, this boy comes to us in hopes of joining our loving family. And who are we to deny him?" A dull roar of encouragement rose from the onlookers. "Yes, yes. And now, it's time to test this boy on his endurance and tolerance. Kid, take your shirt off and come here."

Mello took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and ripped the t-shirt over his head. He handed it to a waiting assistant and stepped forward, staring the Boss down like an equal. His legs felt like jelly.

"Hah. This kid's got more spunk than most of you did at his age. How old are you again, Kid?"

"I'll be fifteen in December, Boss." Mello recited, keeping his voice steady. His back tingled in anticipation.

"See? Fourteen and already has more balls than most of you! All right, Kid, let's get it done with. Do you promise to stick with the family through thick and thin, providing what you can to the good of the cause?"

"Yes, Boss."

"And do you swear to risk life and limb for your fellow man?"

"Yes, Boss."

"And do you understand that if you fail your initiation, the Family will be forced to wipe you out?"

"…" Mello hesitated. "Yes, Boss."

"Good boy. It's time for your test. I want you to place yourself over that table and hold yourself there. Your initiation will come in two parts. First, you will have to hold your position throughout ten minutes of your first beating. If you stand up, you die. After ten minutes, one of these guys will tie your wrists down. The remainder of the beating, your only goal is to keep from blacking out. You understand?"

"Yes, Boss." Mello felt his voice waver. He could sense his limbs trembling as he leaned over the table. His skin blazed in contrast to the cool, smooth wood below him. 

"Begin." The Boss commanded. He stepped to the side as another taller, stronger man took his place behind the young blonde. The man who was to administer Mello's beating walked to the front of the table and draped something around the boy's neck. 

"It's a crucifix," he explained bluntly, "Pray now, or you might not survive."

Mello nodded dumbly, grasping the trinket in his palm. The man nodded once in confirmation before taking the bullwhip in his hand and returning to his place behind Mello. Without another word, the initiation began.


	3. Persist

**Author's Note: **So sorry for the recent lack of updates. I've just finished moving to my new home, and our wireless internet was finally hooked up today. So here's a new chapter of Ad Interim for you! Thank you for sticking with me so long. I like how Matt and Mello act in here. They're always fun when they're drunk. And I couldn't resist tossing in some fun stuff. ;P Onward!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Death Note. But GOD, I wish I did!

**Warning: **Contains abuse, language, some boyxboy, etc. Readers beware.

* * *

**December 13, 2008**

"Hey Boss, I got you somethin' pretty from the last gig!" Mello glanced up from his seat on the leather couch, acknowledging his underling.

"It's a wicked coat, stoled right from under this prick's nose. Of course, prick died after. But the coat's still pretty nice." The goon grinned like Christmas had come early. Mello accepted the gift without a word of thanks.

"You may go," he sighed, tossing the coat over the arm of the sofa. He snapped his fingers once, holding his hand out for the chocolate bar he was expecting. A young girl, no older than sixteen, quickly leapt from her perch behind a large black man and scurried to the cabinet, pulling a bar of dark chocolate out and sliding it onto Mello's open palm.

"So, Rod, what's the word on the Kira case?"

"Seems like Kira's stuck again. Seems like SPK's getting close. What else is new?"

"You piss me off, you know that?" Mello smirked before standing and walking over to the window. He gazed out over the city's skyline. Somewhere in the depths of his mind, a vision of rolling hills and a white orphanage flickered briefly before being replaced with the rushing traffic and towering buildings of Los Angeles. "I'm heading back early today."

"Take care, Mello," Rod grunted, pulling a blue-eyed beauty closer to him.

"Yeah." Mello answered absently. He strolled out of the base, changing his pace to a brisk stride as he hit the sidewalk. He nearly ran up the stairs to his apartment. L.A. made him paranoid.

As he entered the barren front room, he frowned. Something was…off.

"If there is somebody in this apartment," he said slowly, cocking his gun, "You have less than two seconds to get the fuck out." He listened hard, daring some half-assed intruder to show himself. A muffled shuffle resounded from the bathroom area, catching Mello by surprise. "If someone is in here," he repeated, "Show yourself. Get the fuck out."

"Isshatowyureaanolfren?" came the whispered, hesitant response from the bathroom.

"Speak up. I'll shoot you." Mello carefully side-stepped a coffee table as he inched his way toward the intruder.

"I said," came the voice, "Is that how you treat an old friend?"

"…Who the fuck are you?" Mello frowned, daring to sneak a peek around the corner. A shock of red hair greeted him.

"It's been a while, Mihael. I mean, Mello."

"…MATT?"

**December 25, 2008**

"Merry fucking Christmas, pal!" Matt laughed, taking a fourth shot of vodka. Mello sucked greedily at the bottle of gin in his hand, smirking in content satisfaction.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," he chuckled. "Nothing like good times with good company, right Matty?"

"You said it!" Matt laughed, chugging half a soda before pouring another shot of vodka down his throat. "Just like the old days, right?"

"The old days…" Mello sighed, setting his bottle on a wobbly table. "Not at all like the old days, Matt."

"Aw, come on, Mel," Matt joked, "You remember. That one time at Wammy's? It was our last Christmas there. We snuck a beer in and we each drank half. We were drunk off our asses."

"I remember that," Mello smiled faintly, "But I also remember the hangover that followed. Now I can shoot straight whiskey without blinking. Do you remember our other Christmases, Matty?"

"Don't remind me," Matt groaned. He covered his eyes with one hand, pouring soda into his cup with the other. "Think of the good ones, Mel. The ones at Wammy's were usually good. Remember?"

"The ones back home weren't," Mello said curtly. "I distinctly remember that Christmas when we were young. I'm sure you know which one I'm talking about."

"Yeah…" Matt winced. "We really got whipped good that time, didn't we?"

"My first time trying to stay up for Santa Claus…" Mello said dreamily. "We hid under the kitchen table on Christmas Eve. We fell asleep. Your father woke us up at the crack of dawn the next day. Santa brought switches that year."

"I remember, Mello," Matt said softly. "He beat us both right there in the kitchen. Together. Momma cried when she woke up to all the noise. She brought gingerbread cookies to our rooms. Father wouldn't let us have any presents."

"This shit's depressing," Mello huffed, reaching for his gin. "We never had any good Christmases at your house. Or at the River, come to think of it. Matron wouldn't even tell us when it was Christmas. Didn't we get whipped on Christmas there, too?"

"Yeah, but that wasn't anything special. We realized what day it was and stole snacks from the kitchen. She beat us with that belt until we bled. Nothing new for us, right?"

"Sadly. But then again, all the abuse that our skin suffered in our childhood made us stronger, you know?" Mello swished the gin around before taking a long gulp. "I've been shot twice now, Matt. One bullet crashed into my shoulder. The other grazed across the length of my back. Those bullets barely made me flinch compared to the beatings we'd get. They were nothing. I kept shooting, and that's how I reached my current status. I'm King here. I've got fifty people working under me, and more willing to cooperate with me. I'm all-powerful in the underground. But you know what, Matty?"

"What?"

"I still feel like I'm six years old half the time. Whenever I have to…take care of someone…I feel like I'll be caught any moment. There have been many sleepless nights where I swear I've heard your father's footsteps in the hallway. I swear I can still hear that sickening crack of his belt on our skin."

"I feel the same way whenever I'm hacking," Matt sighed, dropping an empty Pepsi can to the floor. "I feel like I'll hear his voice yelling, 'Mail, what the hell are you doing, Boy? I'll beat you 'till you bleed!' And then I'll feel that tingling all over my back. Say, Mel, can I ask you something personal?"

"Depends on what it is," Mello slurred.

"How many people have you killed?"

"…Twelve. But I've had many more killed for me. I've got the blood of fifty or more on my hands. What about you?"

"Zero that I know of. But I've probably gotten a few other hackers killed. While I was trying to find you, I took odd jobs for shady guys. They're the sort of people who kill those who aren't worthwhile to them any longer. And I'm one of the best hackers in the nation." He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "I don't think I could kill, Mel."

"You never get used to it. The eyes haunt you. I was still a kid when I killed my first man. I was about fifteen, I guess. It was in Spring. I was the lowest rank in the mafia, and they ordered me to wipe out a wealthy businessman. I had two adults with me. We cornered the man in an alley during the night. He screamed and begged for his life. Said he had kids. Said he had a wife. I wanted to let him go. But the guys behind me, they shoved a pistol in my hand. Before I could think, I had fired two shots into the back of this guy's skull. He sank to the ground like a sack of rocks. I stole his wallet. He had pictures of his family in it. Three kids, all girls, and a young wife. They had a dog. He had a brother. It took me a long time to get over that one. But after a few months, I was numb to the guilt of murder. You…learn a lot when you're forced to kill."

"Man, I don't think I could do it. I couldn't fucking do it." Matt shook his head slowly.

"That's why nobody else knows about you," Mello laughed gently, "I couldn't put you through this mafia shit. I never told you how they initiate new members in these parts, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

"Good. You don't need to know." Mello shuddered involuntarily, nestling himself deeper into the cushions of his overstuffed chair. "The initiation is bad enough, but the killing will scar your soul."

"I guess that makes me your little secret, huh?" Matt grinned, finishing off his vodka.

"Guess so," Mello peered deeply into Matt's glazed eyes. "And I intend to keep you that way."

**December 31, 2008**

"Countdown starts after this commercial break. You'd better get in here or you'll miss it," Matt laughed.

"I know, I know," Mello called from the kitchen. "I'll be there in a second. Pour me a drink, will you?"

"Sure thing," Matt snorted, popping the top off the whiskey bottle. He poured them each a tall shot, adding more to Mello's than to his own. The television announcer popped a miniature confetti bomb in his co-announcer's face. The audience laughed.

"And now, it's time! Everyone, count with us!" The television screen flashed from the enthusiastic announcer to a giant timer. "Ten, nine, eight…"

"Mello! It's started! Get your ass in here, damn it!" Matt yelled, not taking his eyes off the television screen.

"…Seven, six, five…"

"Matt," Mello said smoothly, sneaking up behind the entranced redhead, "Get ready to take a shot when they say One." Mello picked up his shot glass and handed Matt's over to the gamer.

"…Four, three, two…"

"One," Mello whispered. The boys quickly took their shots, but before either could swallow the bitter whiskey, Mello forcefully grabbed Matt's chin and, without warning, pressed his lips to Matt's, pushing his tongue deep into Matt's awaiting mouth. The double dose of whiskey burned his tongue, making him internally wince. Matt's eyes bulged in surprise.

"…Zero. Happy New Years!" Sirens and fireworks exploded in a jumble of lights and sounds on the television screen. Confetti filled the streets, streamers flew through the air, and balloons flew high into the heavens. Yet time stood still.

Slowly, Mello withdrew his tongue from the redhead's mouth. He sucked at the hot whiskey dribbling down his own lips and chin, smirking mischievously. His eyes pierced deep into Matt's, begging the redhead to react.

"…Mello?" Matt asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Yeah, Matt?" Mello's heart pounded against his ribcage.

"…What the hell?"

"…" Mello's face fell. A fierce blush crept up his cheeks as he dropped his eyes.

"…What the hell took you so long?"

It was Mello's turn to be surprised. Wide eyes shining, he looked up to see Matt's grinning face. With only a moment's hesitation, Matt reached over and pulled Mello's lips into another embrace. Their tongues danced in a rhythm of their own until each boy pulled away, gasping for air.

"M-matt?" Mello stuttered, licking his lips.

"Yeah, Mello?" Matt produced a cigarette from his coat pocket, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

"You really scared me for a minute," the blonde mumbled, dropping his eyes again.

"Did I?" Matt laughed heartily. "Well you did a fine job of startling the shit out of me, too. We're even. By the way, how long did it take you to gather the courage to kiss me?"

"…Four shots of tequila. I was talking myself into it while I was in the kitchen."

"…Figures. Hey Mello?"

"What, Matt?"

"What have we gotten ourselves into?"

"I'm not sure," Mello said, "but I've never felt this good in my life."

"Same here," Matt smiled. "I can't think of any other time I've felt so fucked up and so right."

"Happy New Years, Matt."

"Happy New Years, _Mihael._"


	4. Meanwhile

**Author's Note: **I apparently only get bursts of creative genius after two o'clock in the morning. Here it is, nearly 3AM, and I've got two updates in one night. I'm on a roll. Sorry if this chapter seems weird...I needed it to be more aloof than the next few chapters are going to be. This is basically filler. Sorry guys! But still, it's pretty funny. Onward!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Death Note. Know why? Near. I know I've said it before, but I feel like repeating myself. I hate Near.

**Warning: **Language, implied sex, drug use, etc.

* * *

**January 16, 2009**

"Mello. What's the deal?" Matt stalked into the room like a lion on the prowl. "What the fuck? A missile? A fucking missile? Are you shitting me?"

"No, Matt, I'm not shitting you. I need a missile. And heavy explosives. But I can get the explosives from Smitty. I need you to get me a missile. Please?" Mello side-glanced Matt, continuing with the difficult task of lacing his pants. Matt didn't seem to notice.

"What the fuck? And I'm just supposed to get you a missile...like I can fucking get that at Wal-Mart or something...the fuck?" Matt launched into a full rant, pacing the room and waving his arms in a fit of irritable anger. "I can't just buy a missile. They don't fucking sell those on eBay, you know? Like, where the fuck can I get a missile?"

"Check the military bases," Mello smirked, nonchalant.

"The fuck? Mello? Are you fucking crazy? I'd need a full fucking army to take on...well, the army. You're trying to get me killed, aren't you?"

"No," Mello pursed his lips, tying the last lace on his leather pants, "Breaking into a military base and stealing one would be loud and messy. Hack it. You can do that, right?"

"...I'm going to die. I'm going to fucking die," Matt threw his hands up in the air. "I give up! You're trying to kill me, Mello. I give up. How the fuck am I supposed to hack the U.S. military?"

"Like I know," Mello snorted, rolling his eyes. "You're the hacker. You tell me. What kind of codes would you need to steal a missile?"

"...A fucking lot of codes, that's what," Matt's anger subsided mildly, diminishing into something closely resembling brilliance. "Actually, if I run this new program, and add a few layers onto it..."

"Yeah, just do that," Mello interrupted. He stared at his and Matt's reflections in the mirror. "You're brilliant when it comes to hacking. You'll think of something." Mello proceeded to brush and straighten his hair, glancing at Matt's reflection every few seconds. The hacker stood in deep concentration for a moment.

"Mel," he grinned, "I can do it. It'll take a while, and I'll need a lot of supplies...but damn it, I think I can do it."

"Good, Matt," Mello smirked. "You take care of the missile, and I'll take care of the rest of the plan."

"What's the rest of the plan?" Matt asked.

"You'll see," Mello winked. "Now, shut up and kiss me. I'm discussing heavy explosives with a short-tempered merchant today. If you hear an explosion, I'm probably dead."

"..."

"I'm kidding, Matt."

**February 14, 2009**

"Hey, I got you something," Matt chuckled, tossing a box of dark chocolate hearts at Mello's sleeping body.

"Ow, fuck. What the…? Oh, Chocolate. Thanks Matt," Mello smiled, a genuine smile, and rubbed his eyes sleepily.

"Mel, have you been sleeping well?" Matt asked, concerned. He reached over and placed a palm on Mello's forehead. "Shit! You're sick, pal."

"Not sick…" Mello grumbled, "Just a little tired. Have you heard any word on the Kira case?"

"No way, Mello. You're not working today. You're getting your ass in bed, and you're staying there until you feel better. Don't argue with me."

"Fuck off," Mello snorted, eyes narrowing into slits. "I know my own body. I'm not sick. I'm just a little sleepy. That's all."

"Mello," Matt sighed, "My maternal instincts inform me otherwise. Get your ass to bed. Don't make me carry you in there."

"Fuck you," Mello groaned.

"Hey, I gave you an option," Matt shrugged. "I guess if you're going to be stubborn, I'll have to take matters into my own hands." With that, the redhead leaned over and scooped the older man up like a rag doll, carrying him to their bedroom with ease.

"The fuck? Matt, get your hands off! Put me down, god damn it!" Mello cursed and swore, but never struggled. He didn't have the energy.

"You're sick. You're staying in bed. End of story," Matt spat, plopping the blonde unceremoniously on their creaky mattress.

"I'll keep getting up, you know," Mello growled. He rolled over and attempted to stand, but was easily blocked by Matt.

"No you won't," Matt grinned, "because I'll pin you down."

"What the…?" Mello was gracelessly tossed back onto the bed, but a stubborn redhead was now lying across his abdomen.

"You're not moving. Fall asleep," Matt grinned. "Or I will lie here all day and all night."

"…Fine. I guess you'll lie there all night, then," Mello closed his eyes wearily. "Fuck. I had everything planned out, too."

"Planned out for what?" Matt asked, rolling over and causing Mello to groan in discomfort at the sudden shift of weight.

"St. Valentine's Day," Mello whispered. "I had things planned out. But I fell asleep. So I never got to set up your video game system…"

"You got me a video game system?" Matt asked, fully attentive. If Matt were a dog, his ears would have perked up.

"Maybe," Mello smirked. "And it might be in the closet, behind the violin case."

Without a moment's thought, Matt was up and running toward the closet. Mello slyly slipped from the bed, sneaking off into the living room while Matt pawed at his new toy.

"Mel! This is awesome, man! Fucking rocks! Hey," he paused, glancing around the room, "Where'd you go? MELLO! Where the fuck are you?"

"In here, Matt," Mello called from the other room.

"Well, get back in here! You're still sick!"

"Come get me."

"Mello…" Matt heard the taunting in the blonde's voice. What was that sneaky bastard planning?

"Come get me, Matt."

Matt shuffled to the living room, unsure of what to expect. His game system still lay silent on the floor beside the closet door.

"Mello?"

"Right here," the blonde smirked. "Happy Valentine's Day."

"Mello! What…?" Mello produced a small, silver package from under the couch. Matt took it reverently, as though it were a sacred relic from God himself.

"Open it," Mello grinned. Matt carefully tugged at the ribbons until they fell away, exposing the contents of the box. Matt's breath caught in his throat.

"Mel…?"

"It's a promise ring," Mello said shyly. "You can wear it, or you can turn it into a necklace. Do you like it?"

"I love it," Matt said, pushing the gold ring onto his awaiting finger. A perfect fit.

"I love you, Matt. I love you, and I'm not afraid to say it." Mello reached over and tenderly traced one finger down his gamer's neck.

"I love you, too, Mello," Matt smiled, leaning into his angel's touch, "but you're still sick. You're sick. You're going to bed. You need to sleep."

"No, Matt," Mello smirked devilishly, "We're sick. We're going to bed. We need to sleep…together." The blonde glided into their shared bedroom like a wraith, taunting Matt.

"_Happy Valentine's Day,"_ Matt thought incredulously. Dumbstruck, he followed.

**March 23, 2009**

"Hey Matt, are you high?" Mello peeked into the hacker's equipment room, where the redhead was sitting, surrounded on all sides by wires and discs and other such technology.

"Maybe," Matt laughed, pulling the twisted joint from his lips. "Why don't you come find out?"

"I can smell the weed from here," Mello snorted.

"Yeah, well, it smells better on my breath." Matt giggled and grinned, tapping away at his laptop's keyboard. "Want a hit? Or two? Or ten?"

"Not now, Matty. Hey, what are you working on?" Mello pushed a pile of memory chips aside so that he could sit down among the clutter.

"Hell if I know," Matt snorted. "I already forgot. But it's coming along great."

"Matt…" Mello closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Have you gotten any closer with The Project? You know, the missile?"

"Oh! Shit, yeah! That's what I'm working on. That's what's going great. Yeah, that's it, Mello. Jello. Mello Yellow Jello." Matt cackled insanely. Mello contemplated murder.

"How can you work while you're so fucked up?" Mello wondered aloud. Matt paused, mid-keystroke, and contemplated his answer.

"'Cause…'cause…oh, 'cause I'm more cautious when I'm high! That's it. Yeah, I take my time more. Because I keep having to look at the numbers over and over. And I get them right. And yeah. Hey, Mel, do you care what grade the missile is? 'Cause I can get a strong one, or I can get a small one."

"Just get one, Matt," Mello glared, obviously frustrated with the oblivious hacker. "You know what? Give me that joint. It's hard to be around someone who's fucked up when I'm not fucked up, too."

"Have you EVER been fucked up?" Matt asked, crawling over a pile of twist ties to pass the smoldering stick to the irritated blonde.

"No," Mello replied curtly, "I think it makes people turn into apes. But why the hell not? I'm about to take on the Japanese Police. Why the hell shouldn't I lose my mind for a while?" Mello took the stick, sucking in the toxic fumes. Nothing happened.

"Mel, you know we'll win this thing, right? Come on, dude. We've got the bombs! Bombs win. And the missile is almost ours, too!" Matt spaced out for a second, tapping a new sequence of numbers into the computer. He picked up a brightly colored floppy disk and shoved it into the floppy drive.

"Whatever," Mello grumbled. He inhaled again, still trying to smoke the joint like a cigarette. Nothing.

"Smoking…you're doing it wrong!" Matt laughed. "Hold the smoke for a few seconds, then blow it out. Try blowing it through your nose, too. It's trippy."

"Like this?" Mello inhaled again, held the thick smoke in his lungs, and exhaled with a raspy cough.

"You're getting better. Feeling buzzed yet?" Matt wiggled his eyebrows.

"…I have no idea."

"That means you're feeling buzzed, man." Matt shook his head, plugging a small black box into the computer's USB Port. "Friggin' Newbie."

"Hey!" Mello growled, "What the fuck did you just call me? I ought to…I ought…what was I saying?" He twisted his face in confusion.

"Haha!" Matt roared, "Mello's stoned! Took you long enough, man. Now, just friggin' relax. Finish that joint off, would you? Don't burn yourself. Shit hurts."

"Your face hurts," Mello muttered. "What the fuck?"

"What is it, Mel?"

"My hand. It doesn't want to move." Mello stared at the disobedient limb. "Move, damn you."

"Haha, friggin' Newbie…" Matt chuckled, sliding a different disk into the floppy drive.

"Matt, I'm serious. It doesn't want to…oh, wait. There it goes. Hey hand, why are you being mean today?" Mello grinned absently at his hand, which waved back at him. "What the fuck…"

"Pretty trippy, huh?"

"Yeah. Hey, what time is it?"

"3:47 P.M."

"Okay. Matt, how long does this last?"

"What?"

"This whole stoned thing. How long does it last?"

"Fuck, not long enough," Matt snorted. "Couple of hours, give or take. Stays in your system for a day, though."

"Oh," Mello frowned. "What time is it?"

"3:48 P.M."

"Oh. What time was it last time I asked?"

"Fuck, like I remember."

"I hate this shit, Matt."

"Uh…sorry? You're high now; might as well enjoy it."

"Whatever. Don't smoke this shit in the house anymore."

"Fuck, why not? I work better like this."

"Because…fuck, I don't remember. What was the question?"

"You're so toasted," Matt smirked. Mello stood up shakily and stalked out of the room, finding solace in the comfort of the couch.

"I am watching a movie, and you are not. So you stay there. And I'll watch this movie until I am not stoned. Then I will kick your ass," Mello frowned, glaring at the screen.

"Hey, Mello!" Matt called from the equipment room.

"Shut the fuck up, Matt!" Mello retorted.

Ignoring him, Matt called out, "Yeah, well, you might want to put a DVD in! Right now, you're watching the DVD screensaver!"

"…Shut up, Matt."


	5. Next

**Author's Note: **All right, so here's another chapter of Ad Interim! Sorry for the long wait, but I haven't really felt like updating this story lately. I've been working very hard on my Original Character Death Note story, and it is eating up most of my time. I'm also trying to write some Ouran High School Host Club and Princess Princess stories, just for fun. As far as Ad Interim goes, I'm planning to continue it throughout the remainder of the Death Note plot. So don't worry about it ending too soon! Oh, and for all you Americans out there: Next week's episode of Death Note on Adult Swim shows off Matt's English voice! I'm both excited and really really sad. We all know what happens right after Matt gets a speaking part. u.u Teardrop. Anyways, I'll stop rambling. Onward!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Death Note. Know why? I want to kill the Death Note author. Yup, I said it. I want to kill the Death Note author...with a Death Note, just for irony.

**Warning: **Same as previous chapters. Lots of swearing.

* * *

**July 14, 2009**

"Hey Matt?"

"Yeah, Mel?"

"I never told you why we needed a missile, did I?"

"Nope. But I figured it out. You want that murder notebook, right?"

"…Yeah. Something's fishy about it. I want to see what the deal is."

"And I'm guessing that you don't want me anywhere near you while you're pulling off your heist, right?"

"…Pretty much."

"And you don't want me to worry?"

"If you can avoid it."

"Whatever," Matt sighed. "We've been through worse."

"Yeah," Mello agreed with a smirk. "It's not like this is my first scheme involving bombs and explosives. Remember the toilet incident at Wammy's?"

"How the fuck could I forget?" Matt snorted. "We were grounded forever for that stunt."

"But it was worth it. I had no idea that underwater fireworks actually stayed lit underwater. Those things are brilliant. If we could just harness that sort of power into some heavy-duty bombs…"

"Don't even think about it, Mel," Matt warned. "I'm not scrubbing toilets in a prison just so you can see how big of a boom you can make. Scrubbing toilets at Wammy's was bad enough. I pissed out the window for a month because I couldn't stand seeing toilets after that stupid incident."

"Seriously, Matt?"

"…Oh, don't give me that shit. You know you would've done it if you'd thought about it."

"…Probably. That's one thing about Roger, though. He made sure the punishment fit the crime."

"Very true. Much better than…"

"…back at your house. Or the River. I know, Matt."

"Mel, do I have any scars on my back?"

"Yeah, just like mine. Why?"

"I can't see them. Wait, how do you know that you've got them?"

"Duh, Matt. I can see yours. And what's yours is mine, and what's mine is yours. I'd be shocked if I didn't have scars after what we've been through. Hey Matt?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you know that Roger hit me once?"

"Seriously?" Matt's eyes widened considerably.

"Only once. Across the face."

"What did you DO?" Matt asked incredulously.

"I kicked Near in the head. Running kick. Right into the wall, just SLAM, and he was bleeding a little. I didn't even have a chance to think. Roger slapped the fuck out of my cheek, and then went to tend to Near's injury. I don't think I have ever felt more punished than in that one moment. It hurt; but the real burn was emotional. I almost felt bad for kicking Near. Almost," Mello smirked suddenly, though his smirk felt forced. "If only I could have caused him some head trauma…"

"Mello!" Matt threw a crumpled magazine at the blonde. "I don't know why you've never liked Near. He never kicked YOU in the head, did he?"

"No, he never did. Maybe that's why I hate him so much. Everyone else, every single other person, has always fought me. Even you, even Roger, even the puniest kid at Wammy's. But Near never once raised an arm to defend himself."

"So you wanted to see what he'd do?"

"I guess. But I guess the joke is on me, huh? Near doesn't have a bounty on his head like I do."

"That's true, but Near also doesn't have a best friend by his side. Bounties, bombs, and murder notebooks aside; you're a really lucky person, _Mihael_."

"You haven't called me that in years, _Mail_. What's the occasion?"

"Nothing, really. I just get the feeling that shit's going to get really interesting really quickly. You know?"

"…Yeah, I know. I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess."

"Hey, that's what friends are for. We live together, we take risks together, we'll die together. Nothing will ever come between us."

"Yeah. Want to order Chinese take-out tonight?"

"Hell yes!"

**October 8, 2009**

"Matt, I just got off the phone with HQ. They kidnapped the Deputy Directory successfully, and I want to go interrogate him. Will you be all right by yourself for a while?"

"Mel, don't treat me like I'm ten," Matt grinned, sticking his tongue out. "Just be careful, understand? I know he's not the first person you've kidnapped, but he's an important one."

"That's what I'm hoping for," Mello smirked. "I'm hoping that he's important enough for the Japanese police to hand over that notebook. I'll get my hands on it, one way or another. I've got to beat Near to this."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't get hurt. Hey, can you grab me some smokes on the way back?"

"Fine. I'll send one of the lackeys after some while I'm working. You know, I wasn't sure if I'd ever get the chance to put this plan into action. You have no idea how many favors I had to call in…"

"Twenty-two. But who is counting?" Matt chuckled, flicking his Gameboy to life. "And don't forget, you've still got two of the low-rank boys in Japan. Think you'll find out any good information?"

"I only hope that the Deputy Director is a pussy. If he spills everything, our job will be a lot easier. If not, well, we have ways of making him talk."

"…Just be careful, Mel."

"Yeah. I'll be back before tomorrow. Don't rot your eyeballs out with those video games."

"Yes, _Mommy_. I'll be good. Now, get the fuck out of here. You don't want to be late for your date with the Deputy Director."

**October 11, 2009**

"FUCK. Sonofabitch, MATT! Where are you? Get the fuck in here, right now!" The blonde stormed through the apartment, ripping picture frames from the wall, tearing curtains from the windows, and making a huge mess.

"Woah, woah, what the fuck? Mello? What's wrong?" Matt hurried out of the bathroom, water still streaming down his half-naked body, cheeks flushed from steam and hot water.

"Fucking Kira… He killed the Deputy Director! So now we're sending out low-rankers on a difficult mission to kidnap Yagami's daughter, and I'm positive that they're going to fuck it all up. We just don't have TIME to send anyone better! Damn it," Mello let his gaze fall over Matt's dripping body, eyes glistening as he soaked in the image of Matt in nothing but a towel hanging loosely from his waist. "What do you think, Matty?"

"I think you're overreacting, as usual. You were a low-rank, too, once upon a time. Did you ever fuck everything up?"

"Well, no, but I'm different. These guys are idiots. They're young, they're impulsive, they're emotional…"

"They sound just like you. Young, impulsive, and emotional. So calm the fuck down, and relax until you hear back from HQ. So tell me: What's the plan?"

"Well," Mello sighed, slumping down into a chair, "We're getting Yagami's daughter as a bargaining chip. The girl for the notebook, you know? I've got this private underground base that I bought, and we'll have Yagami meet us there. I can't reveal too many details, but that's why we need the missile. It's ready, right?"

"Yup. I've got the missile stored in the mountains of Nevada, in a remote area with three computerized armed guards. Nobody will come close, and nobody will find it. You aren't going to use the missile on the guy and his daughter, are you?"

"No. You know I wouldn't kill him unless he didn't keep his part of the bargain. The missile is for…well, I can't tell you. Matty, you aren't going to like most of my plan. I had to make some hard decisions, but it's foolproof. There's nothing that can go wrong. I've seen the scenario from every possible angle, and I've got all opposition blocked."

"You're going to do something awful, aren't you?"

"Yeah. I am. And I can't let you talk me out of it. You'll just have to get over it; this is for both of our sakes. This is for everything we've come so far to see. Matt, we're going to get our hands on that murder notebook."

"Oh hell no. I'm not touching the thing!"

"You don't have to. I'm probably not going to touch it, either. I've got one of my guys designated to take the notebook. Though…if my suspicions are correct, anyone can touch the notebook safely," Mello stood and began pacing the room nervously. "Wish they'd hurry up and call…"

"Hey Mel? Can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What's with the cross thing on your neck? I've always meant to ask you, but I never got around to it. You got it after you joined the mafia, didn't you?"

"…Yeah, Matt. I got it the day I was initiated. I wear it so I remember what I've been through to get here. It's somewhat calming on days when I'm anxious."

A shrill screech blasted through the room, making Matt and Mello jump. Mello reached for his cell phone with shaking hands, and Matt held his breath in anticipation. Either the mission was a success, or they were all fucked.

"Yeah? … So, it's all going according to plan? … You didn't hurt her, did you? … Good. Contact Yagami and arrange everything. Flight numbers are recorded on page five of Planner A. Use bank account 40651E2. … I'll be there soon."

"So it worked?" Matt smirked.

"It worked. I'm going out for a while," Mello turned toward the apartment door, but felt Matt's hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, just remember to come home, all right?"

"…Go get some clothes on, Matt. I'll be back tonight. Surprise me?" Mello whispered suggestively.

"Oh?" Matt wiggled his eyebrows. "I think I can do that."


	6. In the Meantime

**Author's Note:** IT'S ALIVE! Bwahaha. Welcome back to Ad Interim! After a nearly three-year absence (which I wholeheartedly apologize for - eep!), Kaze Kimizu is back to wrap this story up! If you've been a follower of Ad Interim for a while, you may want to re-read the previous chapters again to catch yourself up. Why? Because in this length of time, even I forgot what I wrote...and I'm the author! Not much has changed here. I still only get random bursts of creativity in the middle of the night, which is why you see little to no updates from me during the school year. But it's summer now, and I passed my Sophomore year of college with flying colors. So, to celebrate, I wrote this chapter and planned the next one - and it only took until 4 AM! So, what can you expect from me this summer? This fanfic will be FINISHED. Once and for all. I only have .chapter to write for Ad Interim. And to celebrate finishing Ad Interim, you will get more chapters of _Between Angels and Thieves_ AND _Game Over_! Aren't you guys excited? Well, hold onto your seats, grab your Coke Zero, and get ready: here is the next-to-last chapter of _Ad Interim_! Onward!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death Note, and I make no profit from it. But god, I wish I did.

**Warning:** Swearing, violence, etc. You guys know the drill by now.

* * *

**October 13, 2009**

"Mello, what the hell is wrong with you?" Matt shrieked, throwing the television remote against the wall, shattering it to pieces. "You killed them? All of them? Your own men? Near's SPK?"

"Matt, I did what I had to do." The blonde sat very still on the couch, gloved hands clasped in his lap. Matt kicked the coffee table.

"Bullshit. You didn't have to kill them all. I don't even fucking know you anymore," Matt spat, gritting his teeth. "You're just a murderer."

"I warned you that you wouldn't like the plan, Matt," Mello said softly, his voice controlled. "I did what I had to do. We got the murder notebook. It worked."

"At what cost, Mel?" Matt shook his head. "Human lives. I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it-"

"That's why you didn't do it, Matt," Mello glared. "You just had to get the missile."

Matt's face paled. He sank to the couch beside Mello, his hands running through his bright red hair.

"I helped you kill them."

Mello closed his eyes, years of stress and exhaustion etched into his features.

"Don't start that, Matt. You followed orders because you had to. View it like that, and your mind will thank you. Trust me on that."

"Trust you?" Matt scoffed, punching Mello hard in the shoulder. "Trusting you got us into this mess."

"Do you trust me less now?" Mello asked, cocking one eyebrow at the gamer.

Matt held his gaze stubbornly for a few moments before visibly deflating, murmuring a "no."

The two sat in silence for what felt like forever, until Mello's cell phone began to blare. He answered it stoically. Matt slouched against the back of the couch, pushing his goggles onto his forehead.

"Yeah?" Mello barked into the phone. "Right. … Tomorrow. … No later than Friday. … Of course. Be there in ten."

He hung up the phone, turning toward the gamer with a heavy sigh.

"I have to go, Matt. I'll be back soon. Don't wait up for me."

"You'd better come back," Matt said dully. "I'll kick your ass if you don't."

Mello pressed a gloved palm to Matt's cheek, stealing a brief kiss from his lips. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this, _Mail_. But I swear I'll see it to the end with you by my side. We will beat Near, and we will stop Kira once and for all."

"Go do your damn job, Mello," Matt sulked. "I'll be here waiting. Just like always."

**November 11, 2009**

Matt paced the length of the living room for the fortieth time in an hour.

Mello hadn't been home in two days. No phone call, no email, nothing.

"I'm not worried," Matt grumbled, stalking off to the kitchen. "Fucking Mello. Always running off on god damned missions. He should have been back by now. The fuck is taking him so long?"

He grabbed a handful of cheese puffs straight from the bag, shoving them into his mouth. Flecks of cheese powder and corn puff crumbs sprinkled onto the counter. He wiped his palm on his jeans, leaving a streak of artificial orange powder.

The police scanner crackled in the corner. Some somebody did something at some drug store, and some cops are responding. Nothing related to Mello.

Matt paced the floor a few more times before flopping down on the couch, flicking on the Playstation 2 for some gaming.

"Fighting mindlessly in Tekken should pass the time until that asshole comes waltzing in the door like nothing has happened." He raised his voice, rolling his eyes. "Look at me! I'm Mello! I have no bloody cares in the world. Why would I want to call my partner when I don't come home? That's rubbish. Hey Matt, want some pizza? Idiot. Agh, fucking Kazuya, why are you such a dick?"

He began to punch buttons furiously on the controller, wiping out enemy after enemy. His frown deepened when his watch beeped that it was midnight.

"Where is he?" Matt wondered, throwing the controller to the ground and stepping over to the window for a cigarette. He raised the cool glass and let the smoggy breeze drift inside, the noises of the city greeting him unmercifully. He coughed, flicking his lighter until his cigarette caught flame. He sat on the window sill, lazily flicking ash down to the alley below.

Ever since Mello contacted President David Hoope, things had been tense.

Long, sleepless nights. No time to eat or play or fuck. More fights.

"But he always says it will be worth it in the end," Matt sighed, blowing out a puff of smoke. "After we catch Kira, after we beat Near, it will all be worth it. We'll see. Until then, I'm going to fucking kill him whenever he comes hom-"

A loud noise shattered the usual droning city sounds. Smoke rose into the air from a few blocks away, tails of fire climbing to the heavens. Another series of explosions rang out into the night. Sirens blared from all directions.

Matt stared, wide-eyed, cigarette dangling limply from his lips. The police scanner in the corner crackled noisily.

"_All units! All units! Proceed to 945 Clydown Avenue! I repeat, 945 Clydown Avenue! 945 Clydown Avenue, Los Angeles, California, 90103! Again: All units respond! Massive explosion. Hundreds assumed dead. Over."_

"No!" Matt whispered, lunging toward the scanner. "Clydown Avenue… That's where… That's where…"

His keys were in his hand before he realized he had moved from his spot. Tears blinded his eyes as he started the car, hands shaking and stomach churning.

"_Mello_!"

Tires peeled out on gravel before his fallen cigarette butt stopped smoldering.

**November 19, 2009**

"You sure you can trust this bitch?" Klaus Millner asked, cocking one bushy eyebrow at the sullen blonde beside him. "You can't give yourself some time to rest? Got yourself blown all to bits and goin' out on a date a week later! Look, I kept you bandaged best I could, but you're still far too damn weak to go out and get yourself killed."

"I'll be fine," Mello replied tersely. "I know this woman. With a little persuasion, she will be on my side with no trouble. As for my enemy…" he trailed off, staring out the window as Klaus drove through the back streets of Los Angeles.

"You're really goin' through with it, ah? Gonna go see your big bad rival and let him know what's what, ah?" Klaus let out a low whistle. "I gotta say, Mello, you've got more balls than half the fellas I know."

"I'm not one for saying thanks, Klaus, but…thanks. For everything." The blonde picked at his face, the bitterly raw skin hardly scabbed over. Klaus found him half-dead and bleeding hours after he had detonated the bomb that wiped out the base. "When I complete my mission, I'll make sure to send some luxury your way."

"Not a problem, Mello," Klaus hummed. "You and Rod, god-bless-his-soul, helped me and my boys out after that fucking Lonnie Rawkley got his greasy paws on our files. Consider us even. So, just outta curiosity, where were you livin' before all this mess? Ain't you got somewhere to go home to?"

"I have a home somewhere," Mello frowned, tapping his fingers on his leg. "I don't know if I should go back. I left someone there who probably won't be too happy to see me again." He reached up and touched his face, trying not to wince.

"You're fulla shit, Mello," Klaus laughed, taking a sharp left turn and screeching to a halt at a row of apartment buildings. "Whatever sweet gal you've got waiting must be worried the fuck sick about you. She won't care what you look like. And hey, if she's a pretty little thing, you might convince her to play Nurse for you." He waggled his eyebrows, grinning. "Just don't keep her waiting. Not for long."

Mello fell silent, staring up at the apartment building that contained Halle Lidner. He would go inside and wait for her, take her by gunpoint. He would have her drive him to the SPK headquarters. And he would see Near.

"Yeah, Klaus. You're right. I'll uh, give her a call after I'm done here." Mello tucked his gun deep into his coat pocket and slid out of the car, tapping the roof twice. "Take the safe route. See you on the other side."

"Likewise, kid," Klaus smirked. "Don't get yourself killed."

"I don't plan on it," Mello whispered, mostly to himself. "I don't plan on it."


End file.
